Hiding

I’m hiding, I’m hiding,
And no one knows where;
For all they can see is my
Toes and my hair.

And I just heard my father
Say to my mother —
“But, darling, he must be
Somewhere or other;
“Have you looked in the ink well?”
And Mother said, “Where?”
“In the INK WELL,” said Father. But
I was not there.

Then, “Wait!” cried my mother —
“I think that I see
Him under the carpet.” But
It was not me.

“Inside the mirror’s

A pretty good place,”

Said Father and looked, but saw

Only his face.

“We’ve hunted,” sighed Mother,
“As hard as we could
And I AM so afraid that we’ve
Lost him for good.”

Then I laughed out aloud
And I wiggled my toes
And Father said — “Look, dear,
I wonder if those

Toes could be Benny’s.
There are ten of them. See?”
And they WERE so surprised to find
Out it was me!